I’m baaaack!

Kayamandi, Cape Town, Stellenbosch, township, South Africa

Beautiful Kayamandi

After too many months of avoiding this work, avoiding the feelings and questions that going back to my time in South Africa would necessarily invoke, I am finally ready to think about South Africa again.

A thought-provoking conversation with one of my brilliant mentors at UW yesterday really got the balls rolling in my head in terms of thinking about how to approach and conceptualize the ‘doing’ of this research. She has gotten me thinking about identity politics, and what that might mean someone who identifies as a white Canadian woman is able to say about race, power, identity, and poverty in South Africa. It is not that I am unable to speak of these things, or that I am not allowed to, but that I can only do so from my own subjective position. I know that. I have always known that. But I think now I am coming to understand that.

I am also coming to understand that one of the reasons that I have struggled and avoided facing this work is because I have been grieving. I have been grieving the loss of the life that I loved in South Africa, the loss of all the treasured friends I made there. I am also grieving the lost opportunities to better understand.

I must confess – and no disrespect intended at all to all the lovely people who spoke with me about my project – but I feel as though these interviews and photos are so secondary to what I actually learned throughout my time there. Don’t worry Heather! – my research questions are up on my desktop, I’m not losing the thread. But my head and my heart keep returning to all that I learned there in my day-to-day. Joining in for Sunday chill, eating dinner and watching the soapies with Mama and the rest of the family, the Reconciliation Lunches. Amazink. I learned so much through these experiences and encounters. I miss them still.

Amazink, Kayamandi, Stellenbosch, township, South Africa, Cape Town

Amazink at sunset

Stellenbosch, township, Kayamandi, Cape Town, South Africa, reconciliation

The Reconciliation Lunch gang

And yet there is still so much that I don’t understand, so much that weighs on my heart. My friend who was stabbed, who waited so long to go and see a doctor that I legitimately feared he might lose his hand. Why was I the only family ‘member’ that would take him to the doctor? There was no lack of love or concern, to be sure. How is it that that fell to me? Why is it that several friends of my dear young friend who is drinking himself to death asked me to speak with him to try and help him. Why me? I don’t have any particular expertise or insight into what he is going through. I have heard that he isn’t doing well.

I also think about how we had no power in the township for the last two days I was there, apparently because thieves stole the copper wiring. Hundreds of people stood in the cold wind and rain, literally for hours, to get kerosene for their stoves and heaters. I watched them from my window, drove past them in my rental car. Where do I file that heartbreak, that shame?

Stellenbosch, Kayamandi, township, Cape Town, South Africa

My friends

♥

I miss my friends who tried to help me understand all of this; the Viviers, Elsa, Patrick, Franky, Roots, Monde, Jedi, Pakamisa, Anathi, Mama, Bongani, Nozi, Joes. I feel as though this is just the beginning of a torrent of questions and feelings as I try to unpack some of this. More to come, no doubt 🙂

Kayamandi, Stellenbosch, Cape Town, South Africa, township

When he saw this picture, Patrick said: “This is the whitest I have ever seen you!”

 

Daily Post Photo Challenge: Mirrors

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Northern B.C. – I think

As I continue to explore ways to engage differently with this blog – although I will get back to South Africa once I start digging into my data –  I decided to try participating in The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge. This week’s challenge is mirrors.

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Algonquin Park, Ontario

When I think about photographs and mirrors, my mind automatically casts back to some of my favourite times with my butt in a boat. When the water is like glass and the tranquility and vastness of the nature surrounding me is the only thing that exists in that moment.

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Algonquin Park

It also allows you to forget the times when paddling is just so hard – when the wind is in your face and you feel like you move back 2 feet for every foot you move forward, or when I’m desperately trying to keep up with Christina from Dam Good Trips (and check out her site – her trips are  incredible!).

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Algonquin Park

I haven’t spent nearly enough time in a boat this season, but I know there’s always next summer. Just one of the many parts of living in Ontario that keeps my wandering feet happy when I’m home.

Happy Labour Day!

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Massassauga Park, Ontario

This week’s theme at the Daily Post Photo Challenge is mirror. Thanks for the inspiration Zimmerbitch!

“The Sweetness of Academic Life”

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Oastler Lake Provincial Park…camping with baby

Well, Ontario summer unofficially comes to a close after this weekend. Those of us who are learners, including those of us who refuse to join adulthood, are back to school on Tuesday. How did that happen? I left South Africa when I did for a couple of reasons, but one of the big ones was that I wanted to be home to enjoy all that Ontario summer has to offer. My advisor is NOT going to be impressed when she realizes how little work has gotten done over the last 6 weeks, but I have loved every inch of my summer.

Highlights include swimming and paddling with the adorable nephies in Georgian Bay:IMG_20160710_160410919[1]A visit with A&B and my other adorable little nephie at the Ottawa River, the place that is the heart of my family in Canada:IMG_4673

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There was also a family reunion at the Ottawa River a few weeks later. Only the descendants of my grandparents were present and there were over 100 people there. Apparently, I’m shirking my inherited family duty to breed like rabbits:

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Family talent show. We  have more fun than normal people.

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Cousins  xox

Incidentally, the blond crazy cousin above teamed up with the Ginger crazy cousin and talked me into going tubing, like we used to when we were 15. It was terrifying and I ached for days. I am officially too old to tube.

I also got to go camping with my lovely friend Meg…and her new baby. Babies don’t like camping. We tried. Next year he stays at home 😉

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Despite all this summer fun, and all the twigs and sand that are now in my car, I did manage to get a tiny bit of work done. I have had the privilege of getting involved with the Critical Tourism Studies group, a loosely affiliated group of scholars that are interested in issues of gender, poverty, social justice, and race (among other things), and decided to initiate their own conference when they became frustrated that “we” weren’t being represented or respected at mainstream tourism conferences, which are often focused on marketing and economic perspectives. This summer my university hosted the first ever CTS conference in North America! In cottage country! My presentation at the conference was about what I learned through keeping this blog as part of my research process.

I know I was struggling to come up with what that might be leading up to the conference, but I managed to cobble a presentation together. I was literally in the middle of delivering the presentation when I realized the point, the “so what?” of what I was talking about. Here are the things I’ve decided I gained through the process of blogging my research:

  • reduced feelings of isolation as I worked through living and working cross-culturally;
  • a place to trouble by own subjectivities;
  • a space to share my perspectives with my friends and research participants;
  • sharing the stories and photographs that the research participants would like to share (an ongoing process, once I get back into that work);
  • an accessible record of the thoughts, questions, uncertainties, and joys that I experienced throughout my research; and,
  • a space to practice my writing.

So yay! I learned things! So much so that I think I am going to write a journal article about the process. I have found this to be an awesome reflexive tool in my research process and I think that there are some learnings there that I would like to share with others (and I need more publications for my CV!).

The other very cool thing about the CTS conference is that it is a very supportive and loving academic community, which is pretty rare in a field that often specializes in petty and patriarchal. For instance, this was the scene at the keynote presentation, delivered by the brilliant and inspiring Ana Maria Munar from the Copenhagen Business School:

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CTSNA 2016 – my academic Hillside

As academics, I feel like we are so often focused on what is wrong in society; social and gender and economic and racial inequities, lack of access to resources, barriers to participation, etc. Because it’s important. And it’s important to talk about and try to disrupt. But Ana spoke to us about the joys and privileges of being an academic; the joys of inspiring students, freely exchanging our most deeply held values with colleagues, embarking on new projects, and that sense of having found your intellectual home. She shared a poem with us which brought me to tears, and which she has given me permission to share here. This is why academia has meaning, and this is why I always come away from CTS inspired and invigorated. Thank you Ana xox:

The Sweetness of Academic Life – by Ana Maria Munar

The moment when my whole class bursts out in laughter, the warmth of the coffee mug in my hands during class breaks, a student speaking passionately about one of her experiences, checking on my colleague Adriana to see if she is at the office and discovering that her light is on, spending too much time talking with a colleague and pushing the duties of today to tomorrow, opening the email and recognizing the name of a beloved colleague, discovering a book one can’t wait to get the hands on, forgetting space and time in a writing flow, feeling anxious that what I wrote yesterday and was proud of seems now worthless and does not make sense just to realize that it is not so important …no matter what, it is not the end of the world and everything will turn out ok …; sensing the energy of the intense buzz of engaged talking at a workshop, the unexpected praise of a stranger, the smile of a colleague on the street, after class …walking back to the office with the feeling of the work done, an email from a student saying that he misses my lectures; including something provocative or funny among the slides, walking happily to the printer to get the pages of my latest manuscript, reading a speech out loud only for myself, reading a beloved passage of a book out loud for others during dinner..during breakfast…on the train…opening my book for the first time, conquering the feeling of vertigo when expressing a complex idea, the joy of listening to an inspiring speaker, the hug of a colleague after the job done and before a difficult presentation…the warmth of the voice of Kellee coming through on a group Skype meeting, reading without purpose, buying books I know I don’t have the time to read, but buying them anyway…for the future…for optimism… granting extensions, receiving extensions, writing papers and having meetings in an old café, comforting a colleague in a moment of distress, sending good news ‘congratulations, your abstract/chapter/article has been accepted!’, praising the good work of others, saying thank you!, presenting a courageous idea to test if it can fly, sharing secrets, dancing at conferences, planning with colleagues crazy outfits for themed Christmas parties, listening to full volume music when editing, discovering during a presentation how brilliant, or daring, or creative a colleague is … like seeing this person for the first time …transformed; reading an article and discovering that the work of a beloved colleague is quoted there, listening to the confidences and doubts of a younger academic and feeling the trust in the room, sharing the joy and pride of the family and friends of the student that just finished the examination of her master thesis, looking at how beautiful everybody seems at the graduation ceremony, reading with love and expectation the publications of loved ones, drinking together, … feeling nostalgic and remembering sweet memories at the office on a cold and dark winter afternoon, laughing non stop imagining professor Brian Wheeller giving a presentation while dressed in my red bikini and with a gin and tonic ..after sending him detailed instructions as how to do that, smelling the aromatic oil made by Kate and thinking of what a kind and original idea that was, being courageous on a polemic issue and pressing send on that difficult email, the feeling of freedom when receiving the news that a boring meeting has been cancelled, making with others crazy happy plans that can never happen, fixing dates of conferences years in advance and feeling that now I have a date with fabulous colleagues, finally managing to say no, happily saying yes! , discovering a new word, entering my new office for the first time …closing the door and feeling the ownership of that little space, putting my legs up the window, thinking how to go about preparing a lecture but instead daydreaming looking at the sweet photo of my daughter, throwing out old papers and old exams, receiving an intimidating message from the academic patriarchy and smiling ironically at their sense of power, discovering how smart a student is, blushing because my PhD supervisor said he was so proud of me during a panel debate, being included in the personal conversations among my undergraduates during a train ride, days and days trying to find one of my favorite philosophy books and discovering that my son Anton is the one that has ‘stolen’ it to read it, the sweet comfort of talking to a good colleague after a conflict …Sensing the energy and drive of walking fast through an airport playing my role as ‘international’ researcher, understanding something for the first time, explaining a difficult concept in class and experiencing an aha! moment in the eyes of the students, trying something new like joining dancing classes because a colleague recommended it, having a change of heart/mind and accepting it, meeting an old student at a bar and listening with expectation to what he is now doing, making a favor, receiving a favor, phew …the relief of the last exam or project graded – done! Finished!, surprising myself being able to design a website and liking it, managing emails with determination – with short sentences, getting to the point, feeling talkative and writing loooong emails… mixing personal stories and anecdotes and book quotes and photos and many emoticons and hugs and kisses, rejoicing over the personality and variety of the greetings of amazing colleagues – ‘blue skies’, ‘take care Ana’, ‘lot’s of love’ …. Sending emails to Tomas or Kellee like in a chat, many…with only a few sentences… or a smile, writing and feeling that whatever I write will be welcome on the other side, receiving the link to a funny Youtube video on a long tedious day, noticing the comfort of being financially safe and knowing that I can provide for my family, getting emails of support by strangers after a heated debate on TRINET, making sketches on a field trip diary, savoring the sense of independence of travelling abroad, reading on the airplane, packing a dress for the gala dinner and then another…just in case, staying up until too late with colleagues knowing I will feel sleepy tomorrow but not giving a dam anyway, writing late at night when everybody at home is a sleep, discussing an issue and defending a position for too long until it becomes non-sensical.. and then laughing at myself.

 

And now for something completely…normal

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Sunset on the Ottawa River. Canada is pretty too 🙂

I have been back home in Canada now for 3 weeks and I have struggled with what to do with this blog. I have thoroughly enjoyed the creative writing aspect of it and have loved engaging with other bloggers and readers from around the world, and I think I have benefited hugely from having the opportunity to share and reflect on all of the moral and social complexities that I engaged with over the course of my time in South Africa. But how do I justify maintaining a travel blog from my couch (okay, Sam’s couch)? Do I still get to call myself Mis Tourist? How to gauge the potential interest of future audiences in reading about my exciting adventures reading Derrida in the windowless basement of the campus library?

*Sigh.* 2016-2017 is going to be awesome (insert sarcastic tone here).

On the plus side, I have had a lovely few weeks reconnecting with friends and family in Guelph, Georgian Bay, Rideau Ferry, and the Ottawa Valley.

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Adorable neffies on Georgian Bay

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Full moon in Rideau Ferry

I have been back to ‘reality’ this week (although I still haven’t summoned the strength to make it into the office), and I have been working on my presentation for next week’s Critical Tourism Studies conference in Huntsville. My presentation topic is on what I have learned through my practice of keeping a blog as part of my reflexive practice in my dissertation research.

What have I learned?

I confess I don’t know, which is why I’m writing this posting rather than putting together a really mind-blowing presentation at the moment.

I had three defined objectives at the outset of keeping this blog. They were:

  1. As a practice of critical self-reflexivity;
  2. As a site of meditation and reflection, and;
  3. As a site to trouble and grapple with dominant discourses of “Third World,” “ethical,” “reality,” and “responsible” tourism in the Majority World.

I must admit I’m not sure I accomplished any of that, although I have felt that the practice of writing for an audience and anticipating feedback has been supportive to my own well-being. I do feel very grateful for all of the wonderful feedback that I have gotten over the past several months, in terms of other people sharing their experiences and feelings on the issues that I have been attempting to understand.

I think my problem is that it is hard for me to express in presentation (read: impressive academic) form just what keeping this blog has meant to me, and what I have learned along the way. My intention was to create a forum where people could engage in dialogue and trouble their own uncertainties related to tourism and poverty and the places where they intersect. I hope I have done so, and I hope that I can continue to do so from sunny downtown Guelph.

I should get back to it (although I am also contemplating going for a run on the treadmill – this is how bad my procrastination angst has gotten), but thanks for letting me ramble on a bit. I do hope to keep having stories to post, especially as I start getting back into my data and reflecting on what it all means. I still have hundreds of photos to go through too, and I look forward to sharing those as well and hearing what you think.

And, in case you were wondering, 10 year-olds make the best welcome home surprises 😉IMG_4641

Oh, and before I go, my last photograph of South Africa before I headed off to the airport. I’ll be back!IMG_4633

A week in Durban

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The Durban waterfront

I have just returned home to Mama’s house after a week at the World Leisure Congress in Durban. Yes I study leisure. No it is not an oxymoron. My dad would prefer I tell people that I’m in the School of Applied Health Sciences rather than the faculty of Recreation and Leisure Studies, but here we are.

Anyhoo, the big bi-annual conference was last week and for the first time it was being hosted by an African city! My advisor strongly suggested that I attend, despite knowing that I have no social skills and would rather sit under a table than chat with the strangers sitting around it. That being said, I put on my big girl pants and made lots of really incredible and inspirational new friends.

I also had an opportunity to present on what I’ve learned in my work so far. Considering the fact that I’m still conducting interviews (I have two more tomorrow. I fly home the day after. I’m organized.), I really only had very preliminary ideas to discuss, but I did share the audio of the interview that I spoke about in an earlier posting. I think my presentation went well and there was lots of good discussion at the end. Two young South Africans asked about the age of the interviewee and when I told them that he was around 40, they assured me – quite strongly – that I needed to balance that with some young people’s perspectives. Of course I do. Why on earth did I not think to contextualize people’s perspectives based on their lived experiences? To be fair, I have done virtually zero analysis thus far, but I am so grateful to those young people for putting me in my place. The ‘born-free’ generation, those born around or after 1994 have their own perspectives based on their very different experiences of growing up in South Africa. White people were not the “bosses” in the South Africa they grew up in. Not legally anyhow. Now I just have to make sure that that comes across in my findings.

Although another conference attendee thought that might end up being a ‘for future study’ addendum to my dissertation. Another cited my new favourite saying: “The best dissertation is a done dissertation.” 😀

At any rate, the conference was wonderful and I was able to attend a number of really thought-provoking presentations. It wasn’t all work though! I played hooky one morning and joined a new friend in a visit to an “authentic” Zulu village and reptile park, I strolled the beach a few times, I toured the oldest botanical garden in Africa, and I glommed on to a group of really eminent scholars in the field for their walk to the Moses Mabhida stadium. I mean eminent. One of the men wrote the textbook for the first leisure studies class I ever took. Durban is beautiful and warm and exciting, but I’m happy to be back to my cold and familiar Western Cape, at least for a few more days.

Tourists meeting Zulu performers, South Africa

Tourists and Zulu dancers in their natural environment

A Zulu woman demonstrating in recreated cooking hut, South Africa

A Zulu woman demonstrating in recreated cooking hut

The jinglers that dancers wear on their ankles are made from old soda can lids, South Africa

The jinglers that dancers wear on their ankles are made from old soda can lids

Leisure researchers at the beach, Durban, South Africa

A hard day’s work for leisure scholars

Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa

Walking towards the Moses Mabhida stadium, built for the 2010 World Cup.

The Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa

The Moses Mabhida Stadium, Durban, South Africa

Botanical garden, Durban, South Africa

Cat dumping continues to be a real problem for the Botanical garden

The sunken garden, Botanical Gardens, Durban, South Africa

The sunken garden, Botanical Gardens, Durban, South Africa

South Africa the Great

I feel like I’ve been a bit of a sad panda on here lately, always writing about the really challenging cultural and ethical issues that I am grappling with here. Believe it or not, I am still having a whole lot of fun!

Case in point, I met a man at Amazink last week who is new to the city and really enjoys hiking. I also happen to enjoy hiking (when it isn’t hard) and I’ve been too paranoid to go out on my own. New friend! What could possibly go wrong with me agreeing to accompany a tall handsome stranger into unfamiliar mountains?bundy

Jooooost joking Mom and Sam. He’s a friend of friends and a total gentleman. He took me to Jonkershoek Nature Reserve for a beautiful hike, the highlights of which were two waterfalls. The only feasible way to get to the second falls was to strip off our shoes and clamber over the rocks through the stream, which was almost better than the payout at the end. I’m embarrassed at how sore my thighs are today, but it was well worth it.IMG_4507IMG_4510IMG_4514IMG_4519

I also had the privilege of meeting and spending some time with a man from Germany who plans to spend the next 1 1/2 years driving his nifty little suped up Suzuki from Cape Town to Dubai. He is a filmmaker and has already begun sharing episodes from his adventures on his Youtube channel. Sadly (for me) they’re still in German, but he promises to have episodes in English soon. One of the cameras he has along for his trip is mounted on a drone. I had never seen a drone before in the real world (I’m a terrible luddite), and had to restrain myself from being as excited as the local kids, who came running from all sides when he fired it up.IMG_4500IMG_20160624_173547076[1]

I also had the great good fortune to have attended every single one of the Amazink Live shows for something like 7 weeks, with last night’s being the final show. Yes, it was exactly the same show every single week. There aren’t a whole lot of Friday night party options for a Mlungu living in a township. That being said, I loved every minute of every show and felt a little gushy as the last show I’ll get to see finished last night. The cast was terrific, led by the awesome O’Ryan Winter, even though I suspect that they thought I needed to get a life (yes, I was there often enough to believe that this is true). I especially liked it when they played my all time favourite song by Paul Simon, which I shared as my favourite song when the Lady of the House asked us to at the Reconciliation Lunch one week, and explained that I learned about South Africa as child while listening to Graceland with my Dad in the ole Pontiac Parisienne.

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I never did manage to get a good photo despite many, many efforts. You should probably just check out my German friend’s Youtube channel, as he filmed the whole show last night 😉

And now I find myself living at the Durban Hilton (what??!) for the next week for the World Leisure Congress. It’s a tough life. I’ve only been in Durban for a few hours, and it was dark when I landed, but the best part so far? There are lots of Indian people in Durban. Know what that means? Vegetarian food. Enkosi 🙂

 

Mis-Education

Yesterday was my friend’s birthday, he of the lovely pink house:DSC00031

When I found out about it last week I offered to do something nice with him to celebrate. Initially my plan was to take him out for dinner, as I would at home with any other friend. But then I remembered how I invited him to my house last weekend for a beer, as he had invited me to his, and he became really uncomfortable and asked to leave. I promise I wasn’t being a creep. It just wasn’t his element. So dinner might not be the best idea. Then I thought maybe a movie? Then he wouldn’t have the pressure of making one-on-one conversation with me for 2 hours and we could just enjoy a flick. But I still wasn’t sure…

He called me yesterday morning to see what the plan was for the day, and let me know that it would be better if we all just got some meat (always with the meat!) and chilled at his buddy’s place. It took me a while to come around to it, but he of course wanted me to come over and pay for the meat.

At first I was a little hurt that he was rejecting my offer to do something nice for him and was once again treating me like an ATM. I’m a bit slow sometimes, but I did eventually realize that he just wanted everyone to be together and that it wouldn’t be a very nice birthday for him if he got something that he was not able to share with his friends.

If I had known that I would have brought more cash with me.

But he danced around it and never explained his reasoning to me. I guess I should know by now.

We had a really lovely time hanging out all together and chatting. When it was time to leave, my friend gave me a hug and said “Thank you so much, you really made my day. You made me feel like I exist, like I am a real person.”

That made me want to throw up.

The scary thing is that that wasn’t the first time I have heard something like that, although never directed towards me before. That the simple act of wanting to do something nice for a friend on his birthday would elicit that sort of response makes me feel so sick and angry and sad.

This week I am working on the presentation that I will give at a conference in Durban next week. In an attempt to illustrate the complexity of the context related to tourism in the townships, I have pieced together some of the footage that my Dutch friend and I shot here in town. We wanted to show the difference between town – where the white people are – and the township.

On top of the video I plan to play an audio clip from one of my interviews. Despite having his permission to do so, I am reluctant to share the audio of his voice on here, so hopefully the transcript will do. I begin by asking him whether or not people living in the poorer parts of the township would want tourists to come and see where they live:

Kwame: Definitely. I think that the idea that a person that I see as a superior person or a person that is better than me, the idea that a person like that can come and walk in the same street as I live makes me, even if there’s no money it does something for my self-esteem.

Meg: Who is, who is the person that is better?

Kwame: Hm, a white person.

Meg: Really? Why is that?

Kwame: Well white people are better than black people.

Meg: Well [awkward laugh]…they’re not. Like, is that the consensus?

Kwame: I know that. I know that.

Meg: Okay, that kind of makes me want to cry a little bit.

Kwame: I know that. But the rest of the people don’t look like, don’t think like that. A person looks at you, you are white, they know that you have something that they don’t have, you are much better than them. You know. Financially, you know, your life is more together than mine, you have had a better life, you grew up in a house, I’ve never seen a house, I’ve always grown up in a shack that always leaks every single day.

Meg: Yeah.

Kwame: I, I’m, we have a single parent whereas white people have two parents, you know, I’ve never seen the inside of a car, whereas for a white person a car is something that is like nothing, you know. I’ve never had enough money to buy enough school uniforms to go to school.

Meg: Right.

Kwame: I’ve walked to school bare feet most of the time with torn trousers whereas a white person has never seen something like that. So for that person to be able to come and walk in the street that I’m walking in and be able to hold my hand and be able to come into my place before even, you know, she even gives me money, that is, means so much for me.

Meg: Really?

Kwame: You know, it means a lot.

Meg: Why? What does it mean? I’m trying to understand this, ‘cause you know I’m an outsider and I’m a white person so I…what does that mean?

Kwame: It means, it means…I’m a person too.

Meg: Wow. That’s really heavy.

Kwame: It means…people, people don’t look at me the way I look at myself, it means…some people realize that I exist in this world.

Meg: Okay. Just by coming to see where you live?

Kwame: People coming to see where I live, they, they, and they can talk to me.

Meg: Yeah.

Kwame: Because I grew up not knowing how to talk to a white person. You know, that there, these people are actually even making an effort to recognize that I even am alive, you know…is, is a huge thing, you know. That, that now these kids that we have now know what a white person is because they can run to them.

Meg: Yeah.

Kwame: Whereas I grew up not even being able to talk to a white person.

Meg: Sure.

Kwame: So it’s a, it’s that self-affirmation and confirmation of existence that comes with it as well.

Meg: Wow.

Kwame: I talk a lot, don’t I?

This is one person’s perspective, so please don’t take this as representative of what everyone or even most people think. It is horrible enough that one person knows this to be ‘true.’

When you talk about postcolonial studies, invariably it comes up that colonialism is finished and we need to move on and not dwell on the past. This is the long-term impact of racist colonial laws and policies. This is what is left over 20 years later. This is not the only ‘truth’ about this country, but nonetheless this remains.

Sad and mad.

 

The power of PhotoVoice

Bead work made by women in the township, Cape Town, South Africa

Beaded jewelry made by the women at the women’s center is sold to the tourists and the income generated is then used to support the other initiatives of the center, including providing hot food to others in the community and helping people with HIV/AIDS access medication.

I am in the process of transcribing the audio recordings from my interviews at the moment. For those of you who have not had the pleasure of experiencing this special form of hell, I envy you. For those of you who have told me about your own tortuous run through this mill, I now feel you.

That being said, the cool part of transcribing is that it allows you to really, really hear what people are telling you, free from the distraction of thinking forward to your next question or wondering if any of what a person is telling you is actually going to be helpful in the end. Helpful for me of course, because as researcher it is my universe that is central :-/. It is amazing to me how much I have missed of what people are actually saying to me because my head has been wrapped up in other gunk.

Thank goodness for transcribing.

As I listen to my conversations, I wonder if I have actually spoken about my research methodology on here. I learned something cool about my chosen methodology the other day, in conversation with 6 women involved with a women’s skills development program in the Township. My methodology is PhotoVoice: I ask participants to take photos related to tourism and then to tell me about why they took that particular photograph. Here is one that was shared with me the other day:

Tourism photography in the township, Cape Town, South Africa

Taking photos of ‘tourism’ in the township

I looked at this and said “Is she taking a selfie?” and everyone laughed. The woman explained that she took this photo because to her it represented all of the opportunities to learn new skills and have new experiences that tourists bring. If I hadn’t come on tour and met them, they would not now be having this chance to participate in my research and get to develop their photography skills. Pretty cool.

This is the neat thing about this methodology. I looked at this picture and thought, meh. Then I got the story and it took on a whole new meaning, a whole new life. Likewise, the photos open up avenues for conversation and understanding that I would never have known or thought to pursue without their being introduced via the photos.

This is a car wash:

Car wash, township, Cape Town, South Africa

Car wash in the Township

The lady who took this photo explained that a tourist came to visit the Township and met with the young guys who were trying to get their car wash business off the ground. He went with them and bought a secondhand vacuum, the zinc siding, and a shipping container to store everything in. Now they have a successful and sustainable source of income. Long-term impact of tourism.

One of the people I spoke with gave me the old ‘hand-up rather than hand-out’ analogy. Tourists are in a position to give people a little, or a big, nudge that can help them get their initiatives off the ground.

Bead work, township, Cape Town, South Africa

A Mama doing bead work at the women’s center

The lady who took this photo explained that she posed this woman doing bead work out front of the women’s center because she wanted to represent how she had once been, sitting out front of her house beading with no job and no prospects. Then an American tourist came and created the women’s center (which, incidentally, is home to the groovy community garden I wrote about earlier) and now she has a job and a place to go and be with friends and give back to the community every day. Big impact.

Cooking sheep innards, township, Cape Town, South Africa

A lady cooking sheep innards at her home in the Township

The woman who took this photo explained that this lady, her neighbour, doesn’t have a job and is trying to support herself and her family by cooking and selling sheep innards. She wants the tourists to come to her home and buy her food, to have a unique experience to try some local food and help her make some money. As much as I’m *enjoying* my adventures in meatland, I don’t think I’m quite ready for that one, but maybe some others will dig it.

For the women at this center there is no downside to tourism (I asked). The tourists give them an opportunity to learn new skills and have new experiences. And there is always the possibility that one tourist will offer to pay for a child’s school fees or help buy the tools to help get one’s business off the ground. Tourism will always involve imbalances of power, I don’t think there’s any way around that. Maybe, for these women in this community, tourism is filling a gap that their government has not been able to fill in terms of helping to provide pathways out of poverty. Maybe.

Children's library in the township, cape Town, South Africa

Donated children’s books in the women’s center. It was explained to me that this lady likes to keep the books neat and tidy so that the tourists will see that they respect and value their donations.

 

I have had other thoughts about tourism in the townships! If you’re interested in reading more about me trying to understand this particular brand of tourism, check out Touring the Township (and playing Andrea), Reflections on Township Tourism II, and Reflections on Township Tourism III. I’d love to know what you think!!

Youth Day and Reconciliation Lunch

Today is Youth Day in South Africa and a public holiday. This day was set aside to commemorate a dark event in this nation’s history: The Soweto Uprising that began on June 16, 1976. Young students and their allies took to the streets of Soweto (the largest Township in South Africa, located in Johannesburg) on this day 40 years ago to protest the government changing the official teaching language of some parts of public education to Afrikaans. This was perceived by many people to put black students at a disadvantage, as their focus would shift from understanding the content to deciphering the language of instruction.

Police responded to this protest with shocking brutality. The official number of people killed is 176, despite police reports at the time that only 23 had died, and others claiming that as many as 700 were killed. This is the photo most closely associated with the Uprising:

Hector Pieterson

Hector Pieterson, a 13 year-old boy killed by police in Soweto on June 16, 1976 (photo credit Sam Nzima)

Other communities joined in the protests, and by the end of 1976 more than 600 people had died. Although it was another 14 years before Nelson Mandela was released from prison, these protests forever changed people’s acceptance of apartheid rule in South Africa.

I think I have mentioned before that there is a white family living in the Township. They moved here in 1998, inspired by the spirit of reconciliation and a desire to do what was within their power to help heal the wounds of the past. This is so extraordinary that even today, 18 years later, their friends in Town introduce them as “the people that live in the Township.”

Every Wednesday the Lady of the House hosts a Reconciliation Lunch. She serves a full lunch (honestly, I can’t have breakfast on Wednesdays anymore) and the doors to her home are open to anyone in the community who would like to attend. Anyone. I have been going regularly and I don’t know that I have ever seen fewer than 30 people in attendance. Imagine. Opening your home to 30 friends and total strangers every single week and feeding them until they’re stuffed.

Steam bread, township lunch, South Africa

Steam bread and stew. Delicious traditional South African food.

The idea of the Lunch is to sit and eat with people that you would normally not have an opportunity to sit and eat with and learn about one another’s lives. The Lady of the House has a topic to discuss every week and everyone at the table must share their perspectives on the topic. Sometimes the topic is light and fluffy, for instance ‘talk about your best friend growing up and what you did together’, sometimes it can be quite intense and heartbreaking, such as when she asked us to share about our experiences with crime.

Sometimes I think the topic is going to be fluffy, as in ‘talk about your mother’ following Mother’s Day, and I end up crying at the table.

I always learn something. This week we talked about our hometowns. Several people spoke about growing up in the Township and how much it has changed in terms of safety since they were kids. A student from the University spoke about growing up in Joburg and living behind electric fences and having their family dogs poisoned by people trying to break in. One lady spoke about how lovely her hometown was because she was able to ride her bike to and from school without worry. That one really struck me. It never occurred to me that it would be a privilege to be able to ride your bike as a child without having to worry about what might happen.

I don’t feel that I contributed much to the conversation this week. Barrie was…nice?

I would love to ask the Lady of the House if she would make one Lunch topic about tourism, but I won’t because I don’t want to take away from the objective of the Lunch, even though I know it would be an amazing discussion. As it is I feel very lucky to have met such incredible people and to have had the opportunity to learn about the community in such a special way. On this Youth Day it is nice to reflect that the simple pleasure of sitting down and sharing a meal with one’s neighbours is no longer impossible, just special.

Playing dominoes in the Township, Cape Town, South Africa

Local dudes and students from the University playing dominoes together

Putting things in perspective

It is ironic that as my time in South Africa grows short I am feeling more and more at home in my adoptive community. Is that irony or is that simply the way that life works most of the time?

I was feeling like a real cranky-pants yesterday and today. So much so that it caused me to dig into the envelope that I never thought would be opened…IMG_2797It should say enough that I never thought I would need this one, and that I would find myself opening it on the plane out of curiosity, but here we are.

Yesterday could charitably be characterized as “frustrating.” I was dragged all over town and literally pulled in multiple directions by my friends. I was hit up over and over again for money from the aforementioned friends. I took another friend to the doctor’s and dumped a pile of cash to deal with his massively infected stab wounds because no one else in his life, apparently, would take him to get the medical care he desperately needed. I also made the mistake of giving someone the benefit of the doubt and caused a whole pile of grief because of it.

I am so tired of being treated like an ATM/taxi all the time.

Ironically, I feel like I have a newfound appreciation for the parents of teenagers.

And you know what all my carping and pouting and frustrated silences of the past couple of days have taught me? That I am a cranky bitch and feeling oh-so sorry for myself because I am in a position of privilege compared to my friends here.

A little bit of perspective goes a long way.

And, in case you were curious, talking to the lovely Miss A and these two beauties from Kimberly’s magic envelope helped me pull my head out from where it didn’t belong.IMG_4461